


Chance

by MistressMNM



Series: Chance [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, I don't want to give anything away, It's a surprise though, Read at Your Own Risk, Vague Summary, Vague Tags, With A Twist, graphic depictions of sex, supernatural universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressMNM/pseuds/MistressMNM
Summary: Chance /CHans/ noun: 1. a possibility of something happening, 2. the probability of something happening, 3. an opportunity to do or achieve somethingorJohn Winchester gives a monster the chance to prove him wrong.





	Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the first of a potential series I am thinking about writing. Please note that the series is not complete and I am a slow writer. However, this story could be read as a stand alone and will be considered the completed first book in the series. The cross-over is a surprise, but this story takes place in the Supernatural universe. At this time, you do not need to know anything about the cross-over universe. 
> 
> If you prefer to know the cross-over prior to reading or if you may be triggered by the Rape/Non-Con or Graphic Depictions of Violence tags, please read the Author's Note at the end of the story for more information.
> 
> I'm really just testing out the idea of this series. Feedback and questions are welcome!

There were six young women dead in Shasta County, California.

Annemarie Lebovitz.

Shanelle Royce.

Cristina Chavez.

Mackenzie Ray.

Catherine Janson.

Rosalina Fernandez.

The victims varied in age, ethnicity, and were each beautiful in their own, unique ways. No common physical characteristics. Two lived in Cottonwood, two lived in Keswick, one from Palo Cedro, and the last from Centerville. All bodies found in different areas of Lassen Volcanic National Park. All bodies mutilated and found near makeshift black altars. All bodies carved with satanic runes.

John Winchester surveyed the photos from the files he was given by the Shasta County Sheriff’s office. Six women dead in the last week and he was no closer to finding the demon or the ritual the demon was attempting to complete. John knew that victims were rarely chosen randomly for ritualistic sacrifices. Each ritual had specific requirements that needed to be met and his victims would tell him what those were.

Find the pattern, find the ritual, find the monster.

After dozens of interviews, several phone calls, and hours of research, John found something. All six women were between the ages of 18 and 25. Annemarie Lebovitz practiced Orthodox Judaism. Cristina Chavez and Rosalina Fernandez were dedicated Catholics. Catherine Janson was a Christian missionary that traveled to Central and South American countries to do charity work. Shanelle Royce was a spiritual leader at her local Baptist church. Mackenzie Ray was a youth group leader and supervisor of a high school celibacy club. All six women were unmarried. All six women were highly likely to have been virgins.

John read book after book that detailed rituals involving the sacrifices of virginal women. Rituals for immortality, fertility, good harvest, and more. Narrowing down the purpose of the rituals was looking unlikely. In between reads, John patrolled the Lassen Volcanic National Park for clues or another body.

He found neither.

Three and a half weeks after Rosalina Fernandez’s body was found, John was ready to consider moving on. No other bodies were reported. No strange happenings in any of the towns that he could find. It seemed the demon got what it came for and left.

John patrolled the Lassen Volcanic National Park once more before packing up and hitting the road. His sons were waiting for him at Pastor Jim’s. He was a week later than he told them he’d be. His youngest son’s birthday was in two days.

He still stopped for a beer just outside of the Shasta County line.

Reilly’s Pub was a classic roadside bar. Eighteen-wheelers and pick-up trucks dotted the parking lot, interspersed with a classic muscle car here and there. A line of motorcycles was parked near the front door. Cigarette smoke and stale beer lingered in the air under dim lights and bright neon signs. The sound of billiards being played was only outdone by the scratchy music coming from a cracked jukebox in the corner.

The beer was good.

The waitress was better.

Tall and curvy, the waitress was the prettiest thing in the bar. She wore her curly, dark hair back and her lips were colored a deep red. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, making her look slightly younger than she was. Lines around her mouth and crinkles at her eyes gave her away. When John ordered at the bar, she winked at him as she set the bottle down, leaning over the counter more than necessary and drawing attention to her figure as she did.

Not to mention the tattoo of a rose between her breasts.

She kept throwing him glances and smiles as she went about her job. She replaced his beer without asking and handed him a cocktail napkin with a bright red lipstick mark.

John got the message.

An hour later, John found himself seated on a beat-up leather couch in a small apartment down the street from Reilly’s. The waitress straddled his thighs as she drew him into a deep kiss, grinding down into his lap and against his dick. John found himself responding strongly to her advances, stripping her of her top and attending to her breasts with nimble licks and nibbles. He paid special attention to that blooming rose on her chest before trailing downward.

Off came the jeans and the lacy panties.

John brushed his fingers against the coarse curls between her thighs and she moaned in his mouth. She shoved him back further against the couch and began unbuttoning his shirt. Red lip prints stained his chest as each button revealed more skin. He slid a finger inside her and stroke her damp center as she bit and licked at his body. One particularly sharp bite had John groaning and using his free hand to drag her back to his mouth. Her slender fingers danced across his chest, scratching and caressing him pleasantly. Her fingers found the bite mark she made and circled it lightly before her hand joined John’s inside her. He enjoyed the feeling of her slim fingers beside his own before he shifted them aside and added a second finger. John crooked them both to the sounds of the waitress panting and moaning against him, his thumb rubbing against her clit. She pulled away from him, his fingers sliding out from inside her, and knelt between his legs. She stripped his belt off and made quick work of his jeans, sliding them down to his knees. Without warning, she took John’s cock into her mouth and drew him deep.

His hands fisted in her curls, fighting the urge to thrust. She worked him with her mouth, slowly and sensually. Her hands slid over his thighs and underneath to cradle his balls. She suckled on his dick for several moments before she stood and straddled him once more. He griped her hips tightly as she guided his cock inside her wet core. They both froze for a moment once he was buried deep inside her. The waitress then began to grind her hips downward as John answered with powerful thrusts upward. She threw her head back and pressed her breasts against his lips. He clenched her body to him as they moved and he closed his eyes against the unwanted memories of another woman that loved his body in a similar way.

One with softly curled, golden hair and beautiful blue eyes.

The waitress did not seem to notice John’s distraction. She was chasing her release and murmuring to herself in a breathless voice. Before long, John’s thrusts became less rhythmic and more frantic as he was edging closer and closer to his climax. He reached down and frantically rubbed her clit to bring her to climax with him. A few more thrusts and he came, releasing himself inside of her. She gasped and moaned as his hips stuttered with his release. She rolled her pelvis down and around, bringing her fingers alongside his to stimulate her clit more. She stiffened atop him and shuddered in his arms, before collapsing limply.

After encounters like these, feelings of guilt settled in quickly. John’s thoughts often strayed to what Mary or his boys would think of him if they saw him. This led to a desire for a shower and a rapid exit. Not necessarily in that order. It would seem the waitress felt similarly as she collected herself quickly and stood from his lap. She pulled on her panties and top before tossing John his belt and shirt. She thanked him and showed him the door without ceremony.

John climbed into his car and hit the road.

Only 1,802 miles to his boys.

* * *

 

John found himself driving through Shasta County again 8 months later.

He heard tell of a poltergeist up in Ashland, Oregon and taking the CA-89 highway north led him right down near Reilly’s Pub. At 2:33 in the morning, the urge to rest his eyes and wet his whistle led him to pull into the nearly deserted parking lot. A handful of cars and a single big rig truck told him the pub was likely quieter than his last visit.

He wondered if the pretty waitress was working.

Walking through the doors of the pub, John immediately froze at the sight of three bodies lying in pools of blood on the floor. Cursing his lack of weapon, John slowly edged back towards the door to retrieve tools from his car. The sound of humming could be heard as footsteps were making their way from somewhere unseen. John managed to ease himself out of the pub without drawing attention to himself and he hurried to his car. While grabbing his rifle and his Colt M1911A1, John also tucked away a flask of holy water, a silver knife, and a can of salt. He crept back to the front door of Reilly’s and laid a preemptive line of salt at the door.

It never hurt to be overprepared.

He cracked the door open and poked both his head and the barrel of his rifle through it. The bodies were still there, but there were two instead of three. A trail of blood showed a body was dragged behind the bar and likely through the swing door. Rifle at the ready, John carefully stepped around and over the remaining bodies. He stood to the side of the door so he would be covered if it swung open. He could still hear humming but no footsteps. He took the chance to peek through the round window in the door.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

The pretty waitress from 8 months ago had laid out the missing body on a counter. With a butcher’s knife, she was hacking away at various body parts and tossing some into a pot and others into a trash bag. She was humming to herself and swaying to the sound.

Her eyes flickered black.

She was burdened by a heavily round, pregnant belly.

John stepped back from the door and leaned against the wall. His heart pounded in his chest at the implications of what he saw. He had to act fast.

He used his remaining salt to line a back-exit door and the two windows. A black marker from the bar allowed him to draw out a devil’s trap in front of the swing door. He stationed himself to the side of the swing door again and waited. He forced himself to remain still and patient as he listened to the repetitive hacking sounds backed by off-key humming.

Finally, the sound of the butcher knife stopped, though the humming didn’t. It got closer as the demon walked to the main part of the bar. Presumably to retrieve the next body. She pushed the swing door open and was trapped. John did not give her time to act before he swung his rifle across her temple and knocked her unconscious. He cushioned the fall and eased her down onto the floor.

For longer than he cared to admit, John stared at her rotund stomach considering the options available to him. He went back to his car and grabbed a pair of iron handcuffs and some rope. He quickly tied the demon up and tossed her into the backseat of his car.

Whatever he decided to do, he wasn’t going to do it in the middle of the crime scene for a triple homicide.

John ended up in a warehouse district not far from the bar. He found a seemingly abandoned building with a worn and graffitied ‘For Sale’ sign. He dragged the trussed-up demon into the building and spray-painted another devil’s trap on the floor. He laid her body in the middle and circled the trap with more salt. He had his holy water, knives, and gun ready. His journal with the exorcism ritual was opened to the page.

He waited.

The demon’s eyes fluttered open sometime later and she took stock of the situation she was in. Her gaze landed on John. Her eyes flashed black and an unnaturally twisted grin crossed her lips.

“Well, I never thought I’d see you again honey”, she purred, shifting against the chains to draw attention to her swollen belly. “Are you coming to offer child support? Or did you want to work out visitation rights?”

John ignored her taunts and fought to keep his gaze on her face, “Were you the one who killed those 6 women? The ones left at Lassen Park?”

“How else do you think babies are made?” she replied. John grimaced and his eyes strayed down to her abdomen. The demon noticed and continued, “Well, demon babies anyway. The blood and sacrifice of six virgins and the placement of altars made with ash, fire, and brimstone. A whole bunch of other, magic mumbo-jumbo and of course the sperm of a righteous man.” The demon’s grin became more animalistic, twisting the pretty features of the waitress she was wearing, “And they don’t get much more righteous than John Winchester.”

John tensed and the demon laughed, “Oh yes Mr. Winchester. We know who you are. You certainly are making a name for yourself with this little vendetta quest you’re on. I figured you would be perfect for my little pet project.”

“What are you trying to do?” John asked.

The demon glanced down at her belly and then back at John with a raised eyebrow.

 “Why go through all the trouble of creating this thing?” John growled. “Demons aren’t exactly nurturing and parental. What’s your endgame? What is this thing for?”

The demon shrugged, “Why else? Power.”

“Power?”

The demon stayed silent, smirking at John.

“Doesn’t matter,” John said finally, “You’re not going to get to finish your ‘pet project’.”

John grabbed the exorcism ritual and began reciting, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immund—".

“I wouldn’t if I were you”, the demon interrupted. “Not unless you want to kill your son and this poor, poor woman I’m wearing”.

John paused, eyes dropping down to the demon’s stomach at the word “son”. He swallowed thickly as images of his boys came to forefront of his mind. He couldn’t help but picture the babies he held and care for. He couldn't help but wonder what this child looked like.

The demon could tell she had got his attention. “I’m the only thing keeping this body alive,” she told him. “This meat-suit is a little damaged after one of my sacrifices stabbed it through the heart. And if the body goes, so does baby boy Winchester.”

John grit his teeth and shut his journal. He tried to tune out the laughter of the demon as he stalked out of the warehouse. He paced back and forth in front of his car, debating with himself. Could he be responsible for the death of the infant? Was it even an infant? Was it a monster? Would it look like either of his boys?

John dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a familiar number.

“What?”

“Bobby, I need some advice,” John replied.

* * *

 

The whole story came pouring out, starting with the ritualistic deaths John investigated, to his night with the possessed waitress, to the moral dilemma he was facing. Bobby Singer was silent for a while after John finished his story.

“What’re you gonna do?” Bobby asked finally.

John rubbed his hand down his face, “I don’t know Bobby. Have you ever heard of something like this?”

The sound of turning pages could be heard from Bobby’s side of the line, “Can’t say that I have John. A demon possessing a body and going through a ritual to impregnate itself? That’s a first for me.”

“So you have no idea what’s incubating in there?”

“I don’t.”

“It can’t be human,” John said, partially to Bobby, but mostly to himself.

“But he’s at least part-human,” Bobby argued. “He’s part you after all. Who’s to say that he can’t become human? Or at least act like a human, be normal.”

John shook his head, “Bobby this thing was created, in part, by the murder of six women. It can’t be normal. It’s a monster”.

“He’s a baby,” Bobby countered, emphasizing the pronoun. “He don’t know any better. He ain’t even been born yet. He’s just as much a victim in this as those women are. As you are. We don’t know nothin’ about him. Shouldn’t we give him a chance?”

“At what cost Bobby?” John snapped. “We let this demon live until it gives birth? Giving it plenty of opportunity to escape and kill more people? Or we handle the demon and we end up with some sort of baby monster on our hands? Something that we don’t take care of until after it kills someone?”

“If he’s raised well maybe he won’t kill someone. Maybe he can help people instead?” Bobby suggested, calmer than John thought he should be for this situation.

“Are you saying I should let this thing live?”

“Are you saying you should kill your son before he has a chance?”

John sighed, feeling a headache building behind his eyes. He honestly did not know what to do. What was right? What was safe? Could he live with himself if he killed an innocent? Killed his own son?

“John?” Bobby called after a prolonged silence.

“I can’t be responsible for this thing Bobby. I don’t think I could ever trust it. Not with the boys. Not with others.”

“It’d probably be best if he were raised away from the life,” Bobby commented. “Given a chance at a normal, human life. A chance to be better than this demon intended him to be.”

“So what? Place him with some family who would have no idea that they were raising a monster until he murders someone?”

Bobby carefully did not draw attention to John referring to the baby as “him”. This was becoming real to John. The baby was becoming a person in his mind. “Maybe we can find a family in the know. Someone with hunter connections or someone retired. Someone who we can warn and will take care to raise him well. Someone we can check up on regularly.”

John sighed, shoulders drooping and head pounding. He was going to do this. He was going to let this monster live. He was going to give it a chance. He was going to let his son try and prove him wrong.

“Bobby we can’t—we have to be careful with this. Other hunters can’t find out. Other demons can’t find him.”

“We will be,” Bobby insisted. “We’ll give this kid the best opportunity we can. Bring the demon here. We’ll lock her in the bunker. Ain’t no place safer while we try and figure this out.”

Relieved that he wouldn’t be alone in this, John discussed routes and travel times, as well as the best way to keep this demon unconscious as he drove. When he ended the call to Bobby, he made a second call to Pastor Jim, explaining that the boys needed to stay there for a while and that he’ll be there as soon as he possibly could.

With both calls ended, John grabbed an iron crowbar from the trunk of his car and headed back inside. As he interrupted the demon’s taunts by striking her unconscious, he contemplated the implications of his decision.

Thinking about who could be trusted to raise this child.

What this child could become.

Whether it would have his eyes or not.

* * *

 

With the demon settled in Bobby’s bunker, safely entrapped by multiple devil’s traps and iron chains, John and Bobby got to work on planning the future for John’s youngest son.

It all hinged on Claudia, John’s paternal half-sister.

Claudia and John were never very close given that she was 13 years younger than him and a product of their mother’s second marriage. Shortly after John’s father, Henry, vanished from his family, Millie Winchester met Alesky Mazur. Mazur was a mean drunk and emotionally manipulated Millie at every turn, convincing her to leave behind her husband’s memory in Indiana and move to Illinois. Despite John’s best efforts to protect his mother, she married Mazur when she discovered she was pregnant. Claudia was born and this gave Mazur more leverage against Millie. Mazur would eventually succeed in driving a wedge between Millie and John, resulting in John moving away to Kansas and joining the Marines. Not long after John’s left on his first tour of Vietnam, Mazur was killed in a car accident while drinking drunk. Claudia was raised in a suburb outside of Chicago, primarily by Millie and her paternal grandmother Anastazja Mazur. She would reconnect with John when she was 15 and he would continue to keep in touch with her as she moved westward to California for college. The last time Claudia and John spoke was shortly after Mary had been killed.

He called to tell her what happened and she surprised him by putting him in contact with Missouri Moseley. After he was told the secret of the supernatural world, she confided in him that Anastazja Mazur, her grandmother, was a druid and, though Claudia did not have the gift, she was well-read in what was out there. Their last phone call ended in a fight as she was against him carting the boys around the country in hunt of the demon that killed Mary. She offered to raise the boys herself as an alternative, but John snubbed her and ignored all the calls she made after. She eventually stopped calling.

John called the last number he had for her and was grateful when she answered. He told her the story of what happened and what he and Bobby were planning. Claudia was enthusiastic about the plan and agreed easier than John anticipated. She told John about her fiancé, a young police officer, and how they wanted children but that he was sterile after a horrible illness when he was younger. She told John how she had faith that the proper nurturance and environment could combat any biological issue that came from how the baby was conceived.

It wasn’t long before Claudia was flying out to South Dakota, newly-wed as her husband wanted to make the adoption of their son official and easy, and eager to meet her child. With his many contacts, Bobby had managed to arrange for the parental rights paperwork to be ready to be filed once the baby was born. He also scrounged up a local doctor who was willing to help deliver the child and forge the documentation needed to bring this child into the world. For the right price, of course.

All they were waiting for was the arrival of the child.

* * *

 

Nearly 3 weeks after John had discovered he fathered a third son, the demon began to make increasingly desperate attempts to flee her imprisonment or harm her captors. Bobby felt this meant the child was developed enough and labor would begin soon.

On June 5th 1995, Bobby and John knocked the demon unconscious and carved a devil’s trap into the back of her neck, easily covered by her hair. They had discussed what they would do with her after the birth and this was the first step. They brought her to Dr. Levinstein who, with no questions asked, performed a caesarian-section procedure to deliver the baby. It was easier than Bobby or John had thought it could be. Not even an hour after they entered the hospital, a healthy baby boy was placed into Claudia’s arms.

He was red, wrinkled, and wailing.

He looked like a perfectly human baby boy.

Claudia counted 10 fingers and 10 toes with tears in her eyes.

John noted that he looked a lot like Dean did when he was born.

Bobby performed a ritual that, in theory, obscured the baby from being found by any demons that may be searching for him.

The aftermath of almost a month of planning and worrying was surprisingly calm. Claudia took home her new son, excited to introduce her husband to their child and to begin the frightening process of parenthood. Shortly after his birth, Claudia and her family moved to a small town in Northern California. Her husband became a deputy at the local Sheriff’s office and Claudia was happy to stay home and care for their son.

With no known way to kill the demon, and being too fearful of allowing it to return to hell knowing the child was alive out there, John and Bobby discretely took the still unconscious demon to dispose of. The devil’s trap carved into her neck kept the demon locked in the body she was riding. She was wrapped in iron chains and thrown into an iron box that was buried in an unmarked hole, as deep as John and Bobby could dig. The iron box was covered in devil’s traps and other sigils Bobby could find in order to keep the demon from being able to escape or from being found. A layer of cement was laid on top of the box before they buried it.

They never discussed what happened after that.

Bobby made monthly calls to the young family in Beacon Hills, California. He sent Christmas and Birthday cards signed “Uncle Bobby” and received yearly school pictures with rambling greetings written on the back in shaky letters. Each year that passed had Bobby less and less worried that he would have to kill the little boy with the impish grin that called him uncle.

John found excuses that took him through Beacon Hills at least twice a year. He never brought his older sons on these trips. He never stayed for longer than it took to lay eyes on a boy with amber eyes, a face full of freckles, and a joyful laugh. He never spoke to his sister. He never met his youngest son.

Claudia and Noah Stilinski kept their son’s adopted status to themselves. It did not change how much they loved him or how happy their family was. They were fascinated by each new thing their son learned and each stage of development he hit. They were proud, loving parents.

Mieczyslaw Stilinski was an energetic and curious little boy.

He thought of himself as ordinary and unexceptional.

He went to school.

He made a friend.

He got teased.

He joined sports teams.

He played video games.

He read Batman and Spiderman comics.

He experienced joy, sadness, anger, boredom, disappointment, rejection, and more. 

But he knew he was loved.

And someday, he would know how special he was.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a cross-over featuring the characters and universe of Supernatural and the characters and some elements of the MTV show Teen Wolf.
> 
> The Rape/Non-Con tag is because John Winchester consents to have sex with a woman that he does not know is possessed by a demon. Due to the fact that he does not know who he is having sex with, this makes it so he is unable to properly consent.
> 
> The Graphic Depictions of Violence tag is for descriptions of ritual sacrifices and deaths. Note, I believe these descriptions to be less than or equal to those seen in episodes of Supernatural. However, better safe than sorry.


End file.
